Let The Music Begin
by ArcaFeretory
Summary: Songs are awesome. Each chapter is a stand alone one shot based on a song I happen to have listened to when stuck by the sword of inspiration. It hurts sometimes you know. Chapter 03 - "She dusted her pale hands together and smiled, wider this time, with more confidence."
1. Golden

**I am pretty sure I won't have a chapter for ****_A Thing About You_**** this week, I've had so much on my plate that I haven't had a chance to look at what's bugging me. So instead, have this. **

**I have this playlist right? It's awesome. And sometimes when I hear a song, I have to write about it. So every time I do, I'll update this. One song for each short story. Fair enough? I don't know what they'll be like... all over the place I imagine. All stand alone, probably quite weird. And low and behold, the first one ended up an AU. I swear, not everything will be, but wow.**

**This song is ****_Golden_**** by Lady Antebellum.**

* * *

Steam guttered across the street, writhing with the passing of slow evening traffic. The heat of the day sucked away by the crisp evening, lingering warmth oozing from the bitumen, from the sidewalk and crawling away. Friday night lights flashed on billboards, street signs, awnings; noise clattered through the air, rowdy college students and apathetic office workers rinsing off another week. Alcohol wasn't the best way to wash away stress, it was sticky and erratic, but it was better than wallowing in a puddle of gooey ice cream.

She swore she wouldn't do it, bars weren't her scene. But with finals looming in front of her, eyes gritted from staring too long at books, she needed a breath of fresh air. While the claustrophobic clouds of the bar weren't fresh in the slightest and smelt horribly of the tobacco wafting in from the landing, it was a change.

Her friends were sitting in a booth, bent crookedly over the table in a film noir conspiracy type way. They didn't see her and she didn't go sit down. Instead, she flopped onto a bench in the back corner, eyes following the patterns made by the strobe lights across the ceiling.

A band was just packing up their instruments on the stage, but there would be more entertainment soon. The night was in its adolescence, but loud dance music would no doubt pump through the bar into the early morning. Anything at all to take one's mind off finals was worthwhile.

Bonnie should be studying; she could feel the guilt eating away at the walls of her stomach even as she sat there. She should be studying and for any other exam she would be, but it was nice to be out of the apartment. It was tiny, its walls paper thin and leaking. The bar, while hazy and loud, wasn't much of an improvement, it was to some degree.

A bass thrummed from the stage softly, almost imperceptibly. "Let's start with a slow one tonight, huh?" The voice carried over the crowd by only the smallest margins, distorted by the microphone. Bonnie nearly missed it. Then the voice started singing and Bonnie would know it anywhere.

"_The sunset falls in Wichita, yellow dances through the blue_

_Wheat fields catch a glimpse of heaven, makes me think of you_

_And even when you're miles away,_

_You're always on my mind_

_Lord knows you're in my heart_

_Even when I close my _eyes."

Her eyes scanned across the top of the crowd from her seated position, searching for the stage and its performer. She stood on her chair, short as she was, to get a better view and there, standing in her ever present knotted halo of black hair, was someone Bonnie had never thought to see in this sleepy town again. They'd been friends once, what felt like a lifetime ago. Before the singer had dropped out of high school and left, gone. Without so much as a goodbye.

"_You are golden,_

_Precious as a prayer flying up through the air_

_While the rain is falling_

_Golden, timeless as a kiss_

_Baby I don't wanna miss another perfect moment_

_To tell you, how you make me feel_

_The day you strolled in, my heart was stolen_

_Cause you are golden._"

Her chest contracted and her hands shook slightly, with rage perhaps, frustration, pent up hostility begging for release after all this time. But her feet wouldn't move. Not to storm up to the stage and slap the damn woman, not to sit back down and glower at the table. Not even to leave.

"_Smallest parts of who you are_

_Are everything to me_

_From the way you laugh to the way you cry_

_To the way you love on me_

_Shadows run and darkness fades_

_When you come around_

_My single star amongst the grey_

_Always shining down._"

It took a moment, but what she'd said finally sunk in. This was Marceline… singing a slow song? Her fists unclenched as she listened. Not once in all the years she'd known the other woman had a slow song… a song like this, ever come out of her mouth. Oh no, not Marceline. This was… a love song? Bonnie's shoulder slumped, her mouth fell open and all she could do was stare.

"_Yeah you are golden,_

_Precious as a prayer flying up through the air_

_While the rain is falling_

_Golden, timeless as a kiss_

_Baby I don't wanna miss another perfect moment_

_To tell you, how you make me feel_

_The day you strolled in, my heart was stolen_

_Cause you are golden_."

Bonnie was still standing on her chair, completely oblivious. It had been nearly three years since she'd seen her… were they still friends? But Marceline still sang as beautifully as ever. And as the other woman's eyes raked unseeing over the audience (some paying attention, some not) they locked onto Bonnie and widened. Her voice caught, lyrics sliding ever so slightly and her fingers missed a chord.

Then the mistake was gone, covered up behind her cocky smile and a wink. But Bonnie knew Marceline very well; they had been friends after all. And she could see the way Marceline held onto the neck of her guitar with a too-tight, white-knuckled hand and the fingers of her other hand seemed to have lost some of their coordination. There was strain in her voice now, faint and wavering, likely no one else noticed.

"_Lovely_

_Oh so hard to find_

_Yeah you are goodness, forgiveness_

_Of the purest kind_

_Oh yeah_."

Marceline still hadn't looked away. Her brown eyes were as penetrating as Bonnie remembered, feeling as though, beneath that knowing gaze, Marceline was privy to every secret, every thought, every last daydream she'd ever had. It was disconcerting. Almost as weird as the way Marceline's voice had changed, not strained now, but… something else. Calm, perhaps.

It was too hard. Bonnie struggled to move, feet still unresponsive. She had to go. Study looked very good in that moment and the last thing she wanted was a confrontation with the touchy singer. It would only end one way. Her groping fingers closed around the strap of her bag and she shuffled off the chair, tearing her eyes away. She could still feel Marceline's eyes on her back though, and even as she reached the door, the last lyrics filled her ears. Inescapable.

"_From the day you strolled in, my heart was stolen_

_You'll be the hand I'm holding,_

_When the heavens open_

_Cause you are golden, yeah._"

Bonnie burst into the street outside and sighed heavily. She didn't break stride, didn't pause, didn't hesitate, she set off down the street as fast as a dignified pace would allow. She never even reached the corner.

"Bonnie."

The voice stopped her in her tracks. It was a whisper, little more than an exhalation, quiet in the still night. Her breath caught in her lungs, her heart stuttered. Whatever was said, there wouldn't be an argument, she couldn't… _wouldn't_ argue with Marceline.

She didn't turn though and it wasn't long before Marceline's hand touched her shoulder, hesitant, soft, feather-light. Now, with another sigh – this one resigned – she shifted. Meeting Marceline's eyes was the hardest thing she'd done in a while.

"What?"

Marceline shuffled her feet, hands in the pockets of her jeans now, uncomfortable or unsure. She'd never been good at emotions. Bonnie frowned.

"Uh… well," Marceline began. One hand slipped from her pocket to rub the side of her neck. "I just… you don't normally go to bars." Once upon a time, the unspoken question in her babbling would have been answered. Bonnie didn't answer it this time.

"So? You don't normally sing slow songs."

"Yeah…" she trailed off, staring over Bonnie's head. "Just been feeling… slow… I guess." Her crooked smile flashed fleetingly across her face before confused discomfort regained dominance. "Had some things that needed saying and a slow song seemed best." She shrugged, hand back in her pocket.

"Uh-huh. And?"

Marceline lifted an eyebrow and despite herself, Bonnie felt herself falling back into her old patterns. They'd always had strange ways of communicating, ways her other friends didn't get. A look, the slightest of gestures, even a raised eyebrow, contained volumes. And even if she wanted to be angry at Marceline for leaving, even though she wanted to be frustrated that the other woman still had trouble verbalising basic things, this was easy. It was familiar and simple and something she'd missed.

Bonnie sighed. "Why are you here? Why come back? And what the _hell_ were you singing a slow song for?"

Now the wonky smile flickered to life, this time it stayed. "None of them are what you really want to ask me, Bon," she whispered. Marceline pointed to a set of stairs not too far away and Bonnie headed for it. The invitation was implicit. Maybe Marceline had trouble with words, but she'd never been all that hard to understand.

"I still want them answered," she replied, sitting on the bottom step.

Marceline looked away and Bonnie couldn't help but notice the space she'd left between them as she sat. Before, Marceline wouldn't have had a problem invading her personal space, but the gap now seemed infinitely vast. What was worse was Bonnie couldn't bring herself to close it.

"Not a simple answer," Marceline murmured, now staring at the sky. Her elbows propped on the next stair up, head tilted back, smile gone again. Marceline without a smile didn't look right.

"Three answers," Bonnie reminded her.

She shook her head, hair whispering as it shifted. "Not really. Just the one." Mystery. Bonnie had hoped Marceline wouldn't still be as enigmatic. Apparently this was not the case.

Fortunately, Bonnie knew precisely how to deal with it. She stood. "Fine. Have fun." And with that and not a single backwards glance, Bonnie headed home.

As before, she didn't make it far.

"Wait!" The cry was broken, disjointed and pleading. Not a combination heard often in Marceline's voice.

Bonnie glanced back. Marceline was on her feet, eyes wild, one hand out, grabbing at Bonnie's sleeve. She still couldn't make eye contact, still danced around her words.

"Oh for the love of all that is holy," Bonnie said waspishly. Despite her earlier promise, she could feel her ire rising. She was perilously close to losing her temper, which didn't happen often. But Marceline was a notorious cause for it. "You can't say it," Bonnie went on, wrestling her tone into something more civil. "You can't. I know you and that's how you've always been. And I'm not going to stand here while you dither. Goodnight…" She had to amend the last bit. "Goodbye," she said instead. It sounded much more final.

With that she turned a third time. And she honestly planned to go home this time. She honestly did. But she wasn't prepared for what Marceline said. Goodness, given a lifetime she wouldn't be able to prepare for it.

"I missed you."

Her feet stopped so fast she almost fell over. Surely she'd heard wrong. Warmth gurgled in her chest and she was pretty darn sure her heart had stopped as well. That couldn't be good. She stubbornly refused to look though. Not this time. Oh no.

She turned.

There was a light in Marceline's eyes she'd never seen before. It was almost panicked. "I missed you, okay?" she repeated. Right, Bonnie had heard correctly. "I caught a bus and went south. Went everywhere really. I just… just travelled. But the whole time I was thinking about how I didn't even say goodbye." She paused, ran a hand through her hair. "Every time I caught a ride I thought about how easy it would be to come back here. Come home. I felt… inside like… I couldn't stay away. Like elastic drawn too tight, it always snaps back, right? There was too much… tension. Then one day I realised I was an hour from here and I… I came back. I wanted to see you."

Her shoulders dropped as though saying that had taken all her strength. Maybe it had. That was more than she'd ever said at once before. She never explained herself, never reasoned anything out, Marceline just did things. Everyone else got vertigo watching her.

Bonnie felt the need to fill the silence suddenly between them. But what could she do? Nothing. Instead she asked, "Why did you leave?"

Marceline blew out her cheeks, looking away. It was almost sheepish. "I was scared. You were the best friend I'd ever had and it scared me. I didn't even have to speak with you. It was like you just knew what I meant."

"I did," Bonnie admitted. "But that's beside the point. Why are you using past tense?"

Now, startled, Marceline's eyes finally met Bonnie's. "Past tense?"

"You said I _was_ your best friend. Past tense. Why?"

"I left." She shrugged. And to Marceline, that's exactly how simple it was.

"Why the slow song?"

"You're just a nosy as I remember," Marceline muttered, smiling.

"You said it was all one answer," Bonnie observed. "What is it?"

Again, Marceline needed only to lift one eyebrow. _Seriously, Bonnie_, it seemed to be saying. _You're seriously asking me that question? I already told you the answer, bubble-brain. Remember?_

"Me?"

Marceline laughed, a sound Bonnie was suddenly forced to recall she enjoyed so much. "You heard me when I said I missed you, right?" Is it possible to close three years' worth of space? "So yeah. You."

Bonnie frowned again. "That didn't sound like a song you wrote because you have a friend, Marceline." No… it had sounded like… like a love song. Marceline didn't write love songs.

"Maybe it wasn't." Just like that, Marceline clammed back up. Not one word ever escaped her mouth if she didn't want it to. Not one.

Bonnie _tched_ and turned to walk off again. Threats didn't work against Marceline, that was something she'd learned long ago. To get through to the stupidly stubborn woman, she had to actually carry them out. Simply walking away was the easiest and – in this case – most effective.

This time, Marceline followed her. That kind of ruined her plan. But Bonnie ignored her, to the best of her ability, and they walked in silence.

"I said I was scared," Marceline eventually put forth. "Cause you… you were so close. You know me so well and it scared me."

She wanted to interject, but cutting Marceline off mid-stream was a bad idea. Once her words halted, there was no guaranteed way to get her talking again. Best to just keep her mouth shut.

"I was scared because I _cared_," she went on slowly. "Too much. I liked you too much… wanted… I don't know what to call it. But I… was worried what you'd do if you found out. Terrified that you'd never talk to me again. I thought if I left, I'd… cool down or something. I thought I could work it out, get rid of it. But… that never happened. I still care too much. And we don't talk. And I hate it."

That was convoluted and made no sense. She couldn't tell Marceline that though, for someone who kept their emotions so securely locked away, she was awfully sensitive. It appeared Marceline didn't have any extra insight for her though. Very helpful.

"Enlightening," Bonnie grumbled. "You left because we were friends and it scared you. How logical." She couldn't keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

"I don't know how to say it so you'll understand," Marceline said softly. She hadn't gotten angry at the sarcasm. How odd. "Have you ever felt… infinite? Like you're the biggest thing in the world, as though the sun lives inside?"

_Yes_, Bonnie's mind said before she could silence it. She had. Infinite, like the night sky.

"It's like that," Marceline continued. "So big I felt explosive. It made me want things that… didn't sound like good ideas." Her mischievous grin flashed again. "And we both know that most things sound like good ideas to me." True, so anything Marceline was hesitant to do must be truly _awful_.

"Things like what?" Bonnie felt compressed, her voice shook. Her heart drummed staccato in her ears.

Marceline shrugged. "Just things." _And it's best not to talk about them_, her tone implied.

"So what? You come back, still as inarticulate as ever and we go back to how it used to be?" Bonnie asked her wryly. "You know that can't happen. You _left_ and I don't know why." She stopped, standing on the stairs outside her building and turned to Marceline, using her extra step to her advantage. "I don't get it. I can't just pretend you never left and neither can you. If I'm the reason you left _and_ I'm the reason you came back, I think I deserve _something_ at least. Can't you just-"

Marceline pulled her into a hug, cutting off her words. "I don't want to tell you," Marceline whispered into her collar. "I'm scared of it." She was being brutally honest, so forthright and it wasn't natural. "But I don't want to leave again. I don't want to lose you."

In spite of herself, Bonnie found her fingers wound into the back of Marceline coat, holding just as tightly. She'd missed this (if she was being honest), missed the feel of hugging her friend, the smell of her hair, all of it. None of her other friends could ever replace this. Not if they tried.

"You can't have that," Bonnie murmured back. Marceline's hands tensed on her back. "You can't. It doesn't work that way. You have to tell me. I need to know. What if something happens and you get scared again. You'll leave and it'll hurt _me_. It'll hurt us both. You know it. You're good at keeping secrets, Marcy, but not from me."

Marceline turned her face, pressing her nose into Bonnie's collar. She made no move to let go or to speak. Truthfully, Bonnie didn't really want her to. But after so long, she'd trained herself well, no matter what she wanted, she'd let go when Marceline did. Always.

"Either way then…" Marceline sighed. "Either way… I lose you. I'd rather be friends, than nothing, Bonnie. But this… this will end badly."

Funny, Bonnie had thought the same thing earlier. Her fingers moved up, tangling in the hair at the nape of Marceline's neck. The other woman shivered, arms contracting. "Just tell me."

"You'll hate me."

"I already hate you."

In the circumstances, the bad joke was a success simply because she felt Marceline smile. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Marceline still didn't let go. Maybe she thought if she held on Bonnie wouldn't hate her for… whatever she was going to say. Maybe she thought it'd help.

"Spit it out already," Bonnie said lightly.

"I… The day you strolled in, my heart was stolen. You are golden." Marceline trembled. Her inability to say things in a straight forward fashion was endearing and frustrating by turns. Lyrics were only useful in so far as they made sense. She let go but didn't step back, mouth open like she wanted to add something. "I… I really suck at saying things. I'm sorry."

"It's ok," Bonnie replied. "I'm used to it. Be nice to hear the actual words though."

Marceline's eyes snapped up to meet hers. "Huh?"

"Come on, really? You said yourself; I just know what you mean." She smiled. "Besides, that wasn't too hard to work out. You're not half as mysterious as you like to think."

Marceline blinked. "Huh?"

"The words, Marceline," she said. "There's three of them. All single syllables. They take very little effort to say. In fact, you expended more energy singing a song." Bonnie grabbed the hem of Marceline shirt as she tried to edge away, probably to stare confusedly at her from further off. "Say the words, Marceline," she murmured. "Like ripping off a band-aid."

Her fingers fidgeted, uncomfortable clearly, but she was doing her very best to meet Bonnie's eyes. She was failing, but points for trying. Marceline sighed again, closing her eyes.

"I'm in love with you, Bonnie." She tensed, clearly waiting for some sort of violent reaction.

So when Bonnie leaned in and kissed her, she wasn't ready for it. "You used more words than you had to," she mumbled into Marceline's mouth. "You only needed three. That was six." Marceline was very confused. It made Bonnie laugh. "I love you too."

"You… don't hate me?"

"Pay attention when I speak, Marceline. What did I say?"

"You love me…"

"Yes. Now, let's try this again." She pressed her lips to Marceline's once more and this time, Marceline kissed back. It made her toes curl and her heart pound altogether too hard.

Marceline was first to pull away, but not far. "That took three years too long." She was grinning like an idiot. "I'm sorry I left."

"Just shut up. You have three years to make up for."


	2. Back To December

**Have another song. I feel very... ****_meh_**** about this one I'll be honest. I'm glad you liked the first one though. c: Hum... this one isn't AU. Much as I like AUs, it's nice to write canonworld things now and again. I feel accomplished. And speaking of Halloween... No, got nothing. Happy Halloween to you too. Hope you all scared someone silly. I've never celebrated it before... but I could always start I guess. Feel free to ignore this, I'm so tired. Haven't slept all week. u.u**

**Today's song is _Back To December_ by Taylor Swift. **

* * *

Bonnibel hated apologising. She hated being wrong about things and she hated to admit when she was at fault. Which is why she spent so many hours learning things. She assumed that if she knew a lot of _stuff_ she'd never have to be wrong. Which meant that she'd never have to apologise.

She extrapolated that upon learning everything she possibly could – given the restraints shackling her time, courtesy of running a kingdom – she would never, ever have to be wrong again. And, knowing everything could never possibly be a bad thing. Unfortunately, there are a vast array of facts not listed for easy discovery. Many things are not obtainable by sifting through the volumes, dusty and forgotten, in her library. Some things can't even be found in Turtle Princess' library, and it's pretty darn big.

These things were constantly eluding her and it was bothersome and tiring. She wished it was possible to just ask a question and have it answered. Sometimes at least, she'd admit to being rather fond of experiments. Bonnibel ran experiments all the time, on all sorts of things. She herself was often the primary test subject, but her subordinates and even the wider population of candy people weren't excused from test-duty. It was nice to know how the same experiments affected people differently.

However, it was impossible to test for all contingencies, so things always had gaps in the results. Some more gapingly obvious than others. And some experiments ended in utter catastrophe. It was one such catastrophe that saw her in her lab at 3.27am one morning, blearily focused on the tome she was reading.

It was a psychological research paper on understanding emotions. Perhaps if she delved deep enough into the subconscious she'd know why she was feeling so… positively _awful_ regarding this particular mishap. It didn't really make sense, if she was honest; it was just an experiment so why did she feel so upset by it? She'd managed to maintain detachment from everything else, but clearly this one had crossed a boundary she hadn't anticipated.

Curiously, the book mentioned 'emotional blockages' and repressed feelings as being one of the greatest factors in such turbulent feelings as she was currently experiencing. Confusion and bittersweet sorrow. Perhaps… just perhaps, she really _had_ made the wrong decision.

Slowly, she stood, snatched a piece of only slightly crumpled paper from her desk and left her lab. Maybe she'd write on the paper, maybe she wouldn't, it didn't matter anyway, she just wanted to organise her thoughts. The book said that putting them on paper would help. Maybe she needed a matrix or a pros/cons list to fully… no. This was something that couldn't be resolved with logic.

Morrow looked at her sleepily as she stepped into the aviary on the top of one tower. His big golden eyes blinking at her lethargically, he didn't very much appreciate being woken so early. Yet he made not a single squawk of complaint as she settled herself on his back. And after one moment's hesitation when she mentioned her destination, he spread massive wings and dove from the roof.

She pulled the pen from the gum behind one ear and held it above the paper on her lap. Words wouldn't come out though. She didn't know where to start. Didn't know what to put down. Bonnibel was very, very confused. And she supposed part of that confusion stemmed from her hesitation to admit she was wrong.

Bonnibel had always assumed she'd made the right choice, that being so firm and cold was just the way it had to be. She had assumed that things needed to be a certain way, that they needed to meet certain criteria. But maybe that wasn't right. Maybe things just had to be the way they were, no restraining conditions. Just let it be the way it is. Perhaps… she'd been hasty.

Then, with a flash of insight, she knew why the words wouldn't come: she was trying to write them wrong. It had always seemed foolish to write lyrics instead of actual words when trying to communicate something. Lyrics were fluid, they could mean more than one thing and people interpreted them differently, bringing past experiences to bear. Yet now, lyrics spilled from the end of her pen when moments before, mere words had failed.

"_I'm so glad you made time to see me._

_How's life? Tell me how's your family?_

_I haven't seen them in a while._

_You've been good, busier than ever,_

_We small talk, work and the weather,_

_Your guard is up and I know why._

_Because the last time you saw me_

_Is still burned in the back of your mind._

_You gave me roses and I left them there to die_."

Yes that's what had happened and since then she'd avoided any kind of interaction. Remaining distant had seemed best. Leave some space and maybe things wouldn't hurt so much. Maybe she wouldn't mind that she'd lost a friend, lost a trusted confidant, lost part of herself. She hadn't noticed at the time, but now, she knew there was something inside her missing. Something that had left all those years ago when she spoke silly, angry words in the name of science.

"_So this is me swallowing my pride,_

_Standing in front of you saying, 'I'm sorry for that night,'_

_And I go back to December all the time._

_It turns out freedom ain't nothing but missing you._

_Wishing I'd realised what I had when you were mine._

_I'd go back to December, turn around and make it all right._

_I go back to December all the time_."

It had been snowing outside, she recalled. The cold had never really bothered her. Admittedly, she liked summer better, but winter had its charms too. The cold did. She liked the cold. Yet last winter, she'd been sad. She'd chalked it up to the pressure of running her kingdom, but maybe that wasn't it at all.

"_These days I haven't been sleeping,_

_Staying up, playing back myself leaving._

_When your birthday passed and I didn't call._

_And I think about summer, all the beautiful times,_

_I watched you laughing from the passenger side._

_And realised I loved you in the fall…_"

Wait. Bonnibel sucked in a sharp breath as she realised what she'd written. She searched inside, trying to find an ounce of doubt. But no, there was none. She exhaled into the cool air and drew in another shuddering breath. So… it hadn't been science after all.

"_And then the cold came, the dark days when fear crept into my mind._

_You gave me all your love and all I gave you was 'goodbye'._

_So this is me swallowing my pride_

_Standing in front of you saying, 'I'm sorry for that night'._

_And I go back to December all the time._

_It turns out freedom ain't nothing but missing you,_

_Wishing I'd realised what I had when you were mine._

_I'd go back to December, turn around and change my mind._

_I go back to December all the time_."

That's right. Seeing her again recently with Finn, that's what had started that niggling feeling inside that things weren't all as ok as she thought. Normally she'd have decided it was simply a fleeting insecurity, perhaps visit a seer and find out if it might be a foretelling of some kind. Only it wasn't any sort of foreboding, it was… regret.

"_I miss your tanned skin, your sweet smile,_

_So good to me, so right_

_And how you held me in your arms that September night –_

_The first time you ever saw me cry._

_Maybe this is wishful thinking,_

_Probably mindless dreaming,_

_But if we loved again, I swear I'd love you right._

_I'd go back in time and change it but I can't._

_So if the chain is on your door, I understand._"

Morrow began his descent and Bonnibel wondered if she could really be as accepting as she'd put on the paper. She wondered if she'd be able to handle it. This experiment had turned out very differently than she'd planned and this sudden influx of learning had startled her. Who knew that discovering emotional reactions like this could be so draining?

"_But this is me swallowing my pride,_

_Standing in front of you saying, 'I'm sorry for that night.'_

_And I go back to December…_

_It turns out freedom ain't nothing but missing you,_

_Wishing I'd realised what I had when you were mine._

_I'd go back to December, turn around and make it all right._

_I'd go back to December, turn around and change my mind._

_I go back to December all the time._

_All the time_."

With a soft whooshing, Morrow settled in the mouth of the cave, eyes the size of saucers peering at her as she slid off his back. It was as though he was asking if she was certain she wanted to do this. Bonnibel patted his cheek and ducked through the gloom. She'd made the assumption upon leaving that she'd be home. It was early, nearly dawn; there could be no reason for her to be out this late. Not really. Still, given how wrong so many of her other assumptions had been, perhaps it would be best not to do that anymore.

Anxious butterflies easily as large as Morrow fluttered around in her stomach and she was filled with a sudden urge to flee. Maybe it was best to let sleeping dogs lie… No. That wasn't the way. She might as well get this over with. And she was convinced it would only end one way: with yelling and a slammed door.

She screwed her courage to the sticking point, took a deep breath, forced her shaking hand to stop doing that, and knocked on the door. Bonnibel fidgeted. She took a moment to study why precisely she was doing that. It wasn't a normal habit of hers, so perhaps it correlated to her current predicament.

The door opened. The smiling face turned downwards in a frown when Bonnibel was registered as being the guest. It creaked open slightly so the owner could lean obnoxiously against the doorframe with arms crossed.

"Sup, Bonnie? Not like you to be out here in the middle of the night. Not like you to visit at all really."

She took another deep breath. "I want to talk."

Marceline lifted an eyebrow and smirked. "Oh yeah? I remember the last time you said that. Pretty sure it ended in a yelling match and a few broken beakers. Sure you want to do that again?"

"Just talk, Marceline," Bonnibel replied flatly. Why was it so hard to keep her temper? Why was her heart beating so fast? Did she really want to fix things that badly? "No yelling. Promise."

Marceline sighed and stepped aside, allowing Bonnibel entrance. The house was exactly as she remembered. Sparsely furnished, guitars on racks along one wall and that horrendously uncomfortable sofa was still filling the space before the television. Bonnibel made a point of sitting on the floor in front of it.

"So what's got you out here then?" Marceline enquired, folding her long legs beneath her as she sat across from Bonnibel. "You've been avoiding me for years."

"I have a confession," Bonnibel began slowly. It earned her an incredulous look. "I conducted a social experiment a while back. It was to assess the compatibility between various cultures. Some were incredibly harmonious, others less so. I learned a great deal from the experiment." She paused, glancing at the cracked ceiling. "But… I made a mistake. It was just an experiment at the time, perfectly harmless, but I made a miscalculation. Actually… I missed a variable. It turns out emotions played a much larger part than I'd initially predicted. And that two people from different cultures might be perfectly able to be friends while two others from those same cultures might hate each other. It eventually became clear that friendships are made on a personal basis, not a broader culturally influenced pattern."

Marceline just stared at her. "So? Why do you need to tell me this? Don't you have other brainiacs you can whine to?"

Bonnibel sighed. "Because you were involved in the experiment, Marceline."

"I was _what_ now?" she exclaimed. "You _experimented_ on me? Bonnie!" She threw indignant hands in the air before leaning over and jabbing an equally incensed finger Bonnibel's way. "You said you'd never involve me in your little tests."

She shifted uncomfortably beneath that crimson gaze. "Yes well… not all vampires are as friendly as you are. I didn't want to risk anyone getting hurt. Which is why I performed the test on you personally, rather than assigning someone else to it."

The finger drooped and Marceline's mouth dropped. "I'm very confused, Princess," she muttered. "Are you… saying that our whole friendship deal was just a science thing?"

Bonnibel averted her gaze again. "Initially yes." Marceline slapped her palm against the floor, eyes angry now. "At first it was just an experiment. But it… didn't stay that way." She exhaled. "I'm sorry, Marceline. I was… wrong. What I said before, when you left. I was wrong." She stood, smoothing her skirt. It took a lot of effort to meet Marceline's eyes this time and when she did, they were still full of rage.

Sighing again, resigned now to the fact that nothing would ever fix this mess, she turned. Then, remembering her paper, pulled it from her pocket and dropped it before Marceline. "I… don't expect your forgiveness, Marceline. And I won't ask for it. But… it would be nice." She left.

She'd just reached Morrow, feeling very hollow, her steps slow and dragging, heart heavy and resigned, when the door to Marceline's house banged open.

"Bonnibel Bubblegum," the vampire roared. "You get back here! Right now!" Bonnibel ignored her and she could hear Marceline hissing.

A hand grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. Another pale hand waved the paper in her face. "Did you write this?" Marceline asked in what bordered on a shriek.

"Yes."

Marceline reeled at the simple reply. Then her hand dropped and all the fury drained from her face. Surprisingly, the vampire threw her arms around Bonnibel's neck and hugged her.

"I'm sorry I yelled," Marceline muttered. "I was so mad. You just… What you said… it hurt, Bonnie."

"I know. It was meant to." Those words sounded so cruel now that she thought about them. She'd never actually thought she could hurt Marceline, not with words. And she'd never really wanted to.

"Then you ignored me… at first I thought you might have been joking, but when you wouldn't talk to me I figured you were serious." Her arms contracted around Bonnibel, hands bunched up in her dress. "I missed you."

Bonnibel took a deep breath. She hadn't actually thought Marceline would forgive her. "Can… can you really forgive me, Marceline?"

The vampire pulled back and gave her a watery grin. "I tried to hate you, Bonnie. I really did. But I can't. You drive me positively crazy, but I don't hate you. Forgiving you is the easiest thing in the world."

Her knees shook. This was… actually happening. "Thank you," she whispered back, burying her face in Marceline's shoulder. "I've missed you too."


	3. Lucy

**This song is ****_Lucy_**** by Skillet. I took the liberty of substituting the name for a more appropriate one. Hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas!~ :D**

* * *

The dungeon was – no surprises – cold. She shifted uncomfortably on the ice, trying to get more of her skirt between her and the slick surface beneath her in a vain attempt to stay warm. It wasn't much help. And the room was dark too; no candles were lit here when she was alone. It was like she wasn't supposed to see anything.

Actually, that made a kind of sense didn't it? If she couldn't see, how was she supposed to escape? Fair enough, she'd give him that one. Still, it might be nice to see her cell at least, maybe then she wouldn't keep smacking her shin on the edge of the bed.

She decided it was high time she started carrying a lighter on her person. Fire beats ice, right? Yes, that was an excellent idea. She filed that thought away so she could carry it out later.

Bubblegum uncrossed her legs again, the skin of her left calf had stuck to the ice and it hurt to peel it off. Sighing, resigning herself to the inevitable, she stood, cracking her spine after being stubbornly seated for so long. One hand groped behind her until she found the edge of the bed and she perched carefully on the lumpy mattress. It wasn't much – and it smelt like dead penguin – but even its mediocre protection from the frigidness of her confines was better than nothing.

It was night out; she was sure, not that there were any windows down here. Ice King had learned long ago (through trial and error) that keeping princesses in a room high up with lots of windows and doors was a bad idea. There were too many ways for Finn and Jake to get in and stage a rescue. Or there was that one time she'd had her whistle on her and Morrow had nearly smashed a whole wall down when she summoned him to her aid. The look on Ice King's face that day had been highly amusing. The point was, keeping her down here in the depths of his mountain where there was only one door in or out and no windows to speak of, was much more practical for keeping people prisoner. He only had to leave a single penguin on guard outside the door and she'd never make it out.

Having been kidnapped mid-afternoon the day prior on her way back to the castle after a lovely tea party in Lumpy Space, Bubblegum was beginning to despair that she'd ever be rescued. Normally, Finn was here within the hour. Not so this time. The more malicious part of herself that was usually kept under lock and key whispered accusations in the back of her mind; blaming Flame Princess for this dilemma. Before she and Finn had started dating, he was a very reliable hero, but now, he spent so much time with her that…

No, Bubblegum shook free of those thoughts. It was good he was happy. Her own present discomfort was nothing. She'd been through far worse before Finn was even born and was perfectly capable of saving herself, thank you very much. Although, admittedly in those predicaments she'd had her sight, but no matter. She could work free of this surely.

Bubblegum sighed again, standing. It took a good long minute of uncoordinated staggering and blind fumbling to find the door to her cell. Once there, however, she began to probe the lock with her icy fingers. It was hard to get any kind of information from it, fairly safe to assume though, that she wasn't breaking out of here without an aid of some sort.

Slumping back down onto the cot, she leaned against the wall. Part of her was resigned, having given escape up as hopeless. Unless she could trick Ice King somehow, she didn't think there was much chance of breaking free unassisted. But surrender wasn't in her nature, so her brain kept ticking away, trying to formulate a plan.

For what she could only assume was quite a long time, Bubblegum sat on her uncomfortable bed and thought. She discarded playing dead, screaming, and trying to use her fingers as lock picks. There was no way she was fitting through the bars of her cell and she didn't have an implement to use in digging out either. It was all very demoralising.

At least, it was until she heard a voice echoing down the stairs outside. It sounded delightfully familiar and suspiciously like singing. Bubblegum fought her heart to calmness, refusing to get her hopes up, but her ears did perk up and focus intently on the sounds.

"_Hey Betty, I remember your name._

_I left a dozen roses on your grave today._

_I'm in the grass on my knees, wipe the leaves away._

_I just came to talk for a while,_

_Got some things I need to say_."

The voice rebounded off the walls of the ice palace, echoing down the halls sounding clear the whole way. In all reality, the singer could be on the other side of the castle, but the reverberations were deceptive. Bubblegum closed her eyes, still paying more attention to the lyrics than her immediate surroundings.

"_Now that it's over_

_I just wanna hold her_

_I'd give up all the world to see_

_That little piece of heaven looking back at me._

_Now that it's over_

_I just wanna hold her_

_I've gotta live with the choices I made_

_And I can't live with myself today_."

The words cut off and for the longest while, silence filled the corridors. Bubblegum began to suspect that the singer had left. Perhaps having found the place deserted, decided they had better things to do. But no, the lilting melody began again.

"_Hey Betty, I remembered your birthday._

_They said it'd bring some closure to say your name._

_I know I'd do it all different if I had the chance,_

_But all I got are these roses to give_

_And they can't help me make amends_."

Now, the lyrics faded, their source evidently moving further away from Bubblegum's cell. Her heart sank at that realisation. Perhaps rescue really was just a pipe dream.

"_Now that it's over_

_I just wanna hold her_

_I'd give up all the world to see_

_That little piece of heaven looking back at me._

_Now that it's over_

_I just wanna hold her_

_I've gotta live with the choices I made_

_And I can't live with myself today_."

No, that was them getting closer again. What the hell was this song even for? The words made no sense. Who in blazes was _Betty_?

"_Here we are, now you're in my arms_

_I never wanted anything so bad._

_Here we are, for a brand new start_

_Living the life that we could've had._

_Me and Betty walking hand in hand._

_Me and Betty never wanna end._

_Just another moment in your eyes,_

_I'll see you in another life,_

_In heaven where we never say goodbye_."

Again the lyrics paused, though this time it sounded like they were coming from right outside her door. Given the deceitful nature of the palace, though, Bubblegum didn't hold much hope for that. Mutterings floated through the corridors, drifting into her room.

"Where are you, silly old fart," the whispers said. Or Bubblegum supposed that's what was said. It was sort of hard to decipher them. Grumbles began now and faded into more singing.

"_Here we are, now you're in my arms_

_I never wanted anything so bad._

_Here we are, for a brand new start_

_Living the life that we could've had._

_Me and Betty walking hand in hand._

_Me and Betty never wanna end._

_Just another moment in your eyes,_

_I'll see you in another life,_

_In heaven where we never say goodbye_."

Another pause. Then a shadow moved in the doorway, something gracefully edged into the room and little points of light, reflecting non-existent light, flickered as they blinked.

"_Hey, Betty, I remember your name_. Come _on_, Simon," she shadow said, spinning noiselessly in the air. "Where the fudge-balls are you?"

The shadow drifted across the room to prod a bundle of sheets heaped on a chair in one corner. Ice King had tried to get her to wear some sort of ceremonial robe or something. Bubblegum had made a big fuss and punched him in the nose. That was hours ago now and he still hadn't resurfaced.

Now, Bubblegum stood and the shadow whirled around, hissing. The shape distorted, becoming much larger, but it held no cause for fear. Not to Bubblegum anyway.

"Bonnie?" the shadow asked, shocked, deflating. Fingers snapped and lights flared to life in the room. Marceline hung a few feet away from her, red eyes wide. "What the muffins are you doing here?"

Frowning at her, Bubblegum replied with a dry wave of one hand and an equally dry, "Does it really look like I want to be here?"

Marceline finally took in the cage and smiled sheepishly. "Uh… right. Hang on." She glided closer; wrapping her hands around the bars and gave a good yank. The door squealed a protest, resisted for a moment and then buckled, giving out, flying off its hinges as Marceline tore the door free. She dusted her pale hands together and smiled, wider this time, with more confidence. "How's that, Bubs? I'll give you a lift home when I find Simon."

"Who?" Bubblegum asked quietly, treading gently across the freezing floor. Her slippers weren't much by way of protection from the ice.

"Si… Ice King," Marceline replied, blinking at her. "Sorry."

"Who's Simon?"

Marceline rubbed her neck. "Simon was his name before he became Ice King," she muttered, now looking everywhere but at Bubblegum. "I always forget you don't know that."

Bubblegum nodded, heading out the door. There were no penguin guards here now, although Gunter usually stood posted at her door. She ran a hand through her hair, hating how knotted it was.

"Bon, you're really pale," Marceline said quietly, following her out and trailed as usual by her ever present tail of dark hair. "Like, paler than usual. You want to go home now? I can come back for Simon."

"No it's fine, Marceline," she assured the other girl. "Just cold. Don't worry." A thought occurred to her, words nearly falling off her tongue. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from blurting them.

Marceline lolled through the air beside her, twisting to peer at Bubblegum concernedly. "You sure you're alright? You've got that funny little frown you wear when you think too hard. What's up?"

Her heart rolled over and died in her chest as the words spilled forth, control forgotten, "Who's Betty?" Bubblegum wondered idly if she'd regret asking that question.

Slowly, they wound their way further down the spiral stairs, in silence for the most part. Bubblegum figured Marceline wasn't going to answer. Her heart was rather happy about that. Better to live in a pleasing delusion than to have all your hopes and dreams crushed, right? Well, that's what she told herself anyway.

"Betty was… was Simon's fiancée," Marceline eventually muttered. "I found that song on a napkin while I was cleaning out my attic. I need to know if it means anything to him."

Ice King… had a _fiancée_? Bubblegum's brain was very confused. "But he's crazy," she spluttered, causing Marceline to stop. There was a sad smile on the vampire's face.

"He is now, yeah," she murmured. "He wasn't always. He was a good man, Bonnie. Considering he spends his spare time locking you up, I guess it's hard to understand. But he was kind to me. Like a father. She loved the man he used to be. Sometimes, things just don't work out. Sometimes you can't have what you want." Her expression was scarily serious now, and wistful, like she was remembering a better time.

Bubblegum shifted uncomfortably. "I… I'm sorry," she said, staring at the ceiling.

"Nah," Marceline replied, forcing a little cheer into her voice. "Don't worry about it. That was a long time ago."

She opened her mouth to say she hadn't meant she was sorry about Ice King, but more for whatever sorrow Marceline kept hidden. Her teeth clicked shut as she thought better of it though. Instead, she followed Marceline further into the castle.

Finally, they found a large room near the bottom. It was full of junk, things from the old world, books, even a motley assortment of broken instruments. And an excavator. Bubblegum lifted an eyebrow at that. How had he even got that in here?

"Simon," Marceline called. He was kneeling on the floor with a book open in his lap and glanced over his shoulder at her voice.

"Marcy!" he cried, leaping to his feet and waving his tome. "This is going to be the best fan fiction ever. Let me read you the first draft." His face fell when he saw Bubblegum though, and he threw the book on the floor, icy magic coalescing around his fingertips. "What are you doing out of your room, darling?" he growled, seemingly forgetting that Marceline was in the room. "It's your nap time; you should get some beauty sleep."

Bubblegum opened her mouth to reply, but Marceline made a slashing gesture and cut her off. "Oh, we're just going to go for a walk. I figured she should get to know your friends right, Simon? Gotta make sure she's good enough for you." She smiled blindingly at him and the magic dissipated.

Ice King frowned, a muscle in his cheek twitching. "You… you think she might not be good enough?" he asked, squinting at Bubblegum now, as though weighing her worth. "Why would you think that?"

Marceline shrugged. "She's known to be a heartbreaker and a real wad sometimes, Simon," she said off-handed earning a seething glare from Bubblegum. Marceline winked, but otherwise ignored her. "I don't want you to be heartbroken, Simon. You know that makes me sad."

Now a smile exploded on his face, pointy teeth showing through his beard. "That's a good idea!" He shot a quick glare at Bubblegum. "I'm glad you're my friend, Marcy. Such a good pal."

Marceline stopped Bubblegum from raging with a pointed look and a hand on her shoulder. "Just relax, Bon," she whispered. "Or do you not want to leave?" Bubblegum deflated, realising Marceline was pretty spot on with her words. "Hey, Simon," the vampire said, floating over to the old man, now sitting on the floor again. "Do you know this song?"

She waved the paper under his pointed nose and he snatched it from her. "Did I write this?" he queried. "What am I saying? Of course I did. This is fantastic. Only a lyricist such as myself could've come up with this." He turned pale blue eyes up at Marceline. "Who's Betty?"

Marceline sighed. "Someone from your past, Simon," she exhaled, rotating mid-air to leave. "A princess who loved you more than life."

"I had a princess?" he asked, ecstatic. "Where is she now?"

"Not sure," Marceline admitted, ushering Bubblegum from the room. "I was hoping you could tell me."

He tapped a finger against the page. "Maybe I'll write about it. I might remember that way. Gunter!" he bellowed.

"Wenk," came the obnoxious reply. The little black penguin waddled in and glared at Marceline and Bubblegum before fixing his attention on Ice King.

"I need _paper_. Get me all the paper you can find. I have a new project." He frisbied the book from before across the room, it collided with an existing stack and they all toppled over. But he was too busy digging through the piles of garbage to notice.

"Come on, Bonbon," Marceline said quietly. "Let's get out of here."

"I'm a wad, am I?' Bubblegum asked, as Marceline scooped her up and dived through the window in the top of the castle. "Thanks for telling me how you really feel." She huffed, blowing hair from her face, tightening her hold around Marceline's waist. It was difficult to deny, honestly, the feeling of anguish at hearing Marceline say that about her.

"Oh, calm your royal panties, Bubblebutt," Marceline laughed. "I would've called you all sorts of names if it meant Simon would let you walk out."

Bubblegum chewed her lip in thought. Marceline's shirt slipped beneath her fingers and she squeezed harder, pressing her face into her friend's shoulder. Flying was fun, sure, but her joints were still stiff with cold and maintaining a good grip was hard. Especially with the vampire's dark hair tickling her neck.

"Will you forgive me for calling you a wad, Bonnibel?" Marceline asked softly, her voice vibrating in her chest.

"Yeah ok," she agreed, although she hadn't been truly mad about it. It didn't take a great deal for her to forgive Marceline. Luckily the silly woman was pretty oblivious to that fact. "Will you tell me something?"

"Sure."

"What is the something you want and can't have?" That comment had been bugging her this whole time and her curiosity burned, not letting her leave it alone.

Marceline stiffened; tensing up like the question burned her too. "Uh… oh, nothing. Just… um… a figure of speech. Yeah."

"Come on, Marcy," Bubblegum pressed. "I know you better than that. What's bugging you?"

True to form, Marceline ignored her the whole trip back to the Candy Kingdom. Then, she placed Bubblegum in that curiously careful way she had on the balcony, like the brash vampire was scared Bubblegum would break. For a moment, they just stood there (well, Bubblegum stood there and Marceline floated above the railing) then Marceline smiled and flew away.

Bonnie wished she hadn't.


End file.
